In early 19th-century America, life was changing fast. More Americans were venturing farther from home as the country expanded westward and new innovations in steam and rail transport made travel more accessible. This also meant that more Americans were dying far from home. Society, though, still viewed it as important that a person be laid to rest among their family; to not have this final closure would have been deeply upsetting.
New York stove maker Almond Dunbar Fisk found himself in this very situation when his brother, William, died in Mississippi in 1844. Fisk’s family was unable to have William’s body returned to New York to be buried in the family plot, and the sorrow of the situation propelled Almond to look for solutions for families in similar situations. After applying his own knowledge of creating furnaces and boilers and consulting with experts in organic decomposition, in 1848 Fisk was granted a patent for an airtight cast iron coffin. With his father-in-law, Harvey Raymond, Fisk opened “Fisk and Raymond” in Manhattan and began selling his iron coffins.
Mummiform Iron Coffin, 1854-1858. This small coffin is unused and was possibly kept as a sales sample. / THF370110
Once thought to be only the privilege of the wealthy, more recent evidence and research suggest that iron coffins were relatively popular in the years before embalming became a common practice around the time of the Civil War. This makes sense when you consider how many practical issues the iron coffin addressed, beyond just body transport. Cholera was plaguing the nation, and the airtight seal of Fisk’s coffin design helped assuage fears of spreading the disease (as cholera is one of the incredibly few diseases that can be contagious even after death). Fisk and Raymond also advertised their coffins as a deterrent to grave robbery, although the fear of such acts was perhaps more prevalent than the act itself.
Iron coffins would be used or endorsed by several notable figures, including Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, James Monroe, Dolley Madison, John C. Calhoun, and Zachary Taylor. But they also received a bit of notoriety for another reason: anecdotes relating how they would occasionally “explode.” One such story in the September 4,1886, issue of Scientific American is fairly typical of the reporting of such stories: while waiting for family to return from out of town to arrange for a proper plot, a body was buried in a metal coffin in a temporary grave. When the final resting place was ready, the body and coffin were exhumed, and a family member asked to see their loved one’s face in the little glass window. The metal lid over the face was removed to reveal a glass viewing window, and the face was there—perfectly preserved. While the coffin was left briefly unattended before burial, “an explosion of gas ensued, shattering the glass . . . into numerous fragments . . . The report of the explosion was equal to that of a dynamite cartridge.” While it is in fact true that the buildup of gas inside the coffin could cause the glass to fracture and then break, particularly if there was a change in temperature, the strength of the “explosion” was often overstated for the sake of a more sensational story to tell.
Scientific American, Vol. 55, July-December 1886. The story of a Fisk coffin rupturing is found in the center column, under "Explosion of a Coffin.” / THF705631
While “Fisk coffins” or “Fisk burial cases” would become the shorthand for these iron coffins, Fisk and Raymond was not the only manufacturer. Through a combination of licensing the manufacturing rights, the patent changing hands, and changing company names, iron coffins were produced by companies including: W.C. Davis and Co.; Crane, Barnes and Co.; Crane, Breed and Company; W. M. Raymond and Company; and Metallic Burial Case Company. While production of these metallic coffins would cease around 1889, remaining stock continued to be sold until the start of the 1900s.
This “Fisk coffin,” produced by Crane, Breed and Company., maintains the mummiform shape of the original Fisk patent, but its decorative design is distinct to the manufacturer. The coffin mimics the folds of a burial shroud, and the rose at the foot is a common burial symbol, often used on headstones to convey various meanings. / THF370111
The Henry Ford is lucky enough to have one of these coffins in our collection—joining institutions such as the Memphis Museum of Science and History, Museum of Appalachia, the LSU Rural Life Museum, the Simpson Funeral Museum, and the Smithsonian. It provides a beautiful example of Fisk’s invention, and demonstrates the importance of keeping our loved ones close—even after death. Together with objects like our burial quilt, mourning jewelry, and items related to Dia de Muertos, our death-related collections paint a picture of the myriad ways grief, mourning, and remembrance manifest themselves. Macabre as these items may be to some, we need only dig a little deeper to see that they contain stories of great love and care.
Rachel Yerke-Osgood is an Associate Curator at The Henry Ford.
With gratitude to Scott Warnasch for sharing his detailed research.
In this interview, Jeanine Head Miller (Curator of Domestic Life), and Charles Sable (Curator of Decorative Arts) sat down with Kristen Gallerneaux (Curator and Editor-in-Chief of Digital Curation) to share their efforts to restore the interiors and furnishings of The Jackson Home. This article is part of an ongoing series focusing on the history, preservation, and restoration of the landmark Jackson Home experience, slated to open in Greenfield Village in Summer 2026.
Dr. Sullivan, Richie Jean, and Jawana Jackson in their living room, 1960s. / THF708482
Kristen Gallerneaux: The Jackson Home project has been a very complex undertaking. You have both spent a large part of your respective careers at The Henry Ford, and you each bring complementary forms of expertise to the project through your knowledge of the histories of domestic life and decorative arts. How do your collection responsibility areas complement this project? And in turn, how does your expertise work in collaboration with the rest of the Jackson Home team?
Jeanine Head Miller: Historical environments — like the Jackson Home — help a story come to life by creating the illusion of time and place. Our goal is to return the Jackson Home to its 1965 appearance as closely as possible, the date of significance for the home’s story. As Curator of Domestic Life, my focus is the history of the American home and how domestic settings reflect changes in American society through time — and what those changes meant for people living in a particular time and place. For the Jackson Home, this requires developing an understanding of the lives of the Jackson family of Selma, Alabama, and the world they lived in — and how that story should be reflected in the way the home is furnished. So, our team thinks about how the Jacksons, and others who came to the house, interacted with the space and the objects in it. We use furnishings and accessories to suggest the presence of these individuals and their activities.
Charles Sable: My background is in the history of the decorative arts, specifically, furniture, glass, ceramics, metals, and in a larger context, the history of interiors. In this case I take my knowledge of mid-20th century decorative arts and apply it to the Jackson House story. In this project I examine the period photographs in great detail and work with what we have from the family. Then I collaborate with the team to accurately portray how the home was lived in. The goal is to show our guests what life was like for the Jackson family in 1965.
KG: Are there any unique layers of history and interpretation in this project that differ from previous Greenfield Village projects?
JHM: The Jackson Home is very different! Greenfield Village is filled with buildings dating from the 1600s to the early 1900s — buildings from bygone eras. The story of the Jackson Home dates to the mid-1960s, making it by far the most modern experience encountered in a Greenfield Village building. (The Jackson Home will be the only historic house in Greenfield Village with an indoor bathroom and a driveway!) It also dates from an era within the the living memory of many people today.
With the Jackson Home, we are very fortunate. We have an unusual number of available research resources on the history of the home and its occupants. Vintage photographs taken in the home, Richie Jean Jackson’s 2011 book, House by the Side of the Road, and her oral interviews, as well as the recollections of her daughter Jawana and others, help guide us in restoring the home to its 1965 appearance. We have more information about the 1965 appearance for some rooms (the living room) and less for others (the bathroom and music room). So, we must use our understanding of the Jacksons and the era to determine additional objects or accessories with which to furnish the home.
1960 photo of three people sitting on a couch in the Music Room. Behind, you can see a hint of the curtains. / THF731071
This home offers a significant, entirely new story to Greenfield Village. It reflects the lives of middle-class Black professionals in the mid-20th century segregated South and their key role in supporting the voting rights movement, as well as the efforts of the Black community that led to the marches — and ultimately to the Voting Rights Act of 1965.
CS: This project is radically different from other Greenfield Village homes. We have much (nearly two thirds) but not all of the family’s furnishings. This creates opportunities and challenges. This house was built in 1919 occupied consecutively by three families until 2010 or so. We have literally generations of furnishings given to us by the Jackson family. We spent a great deal of time examining the contents to identify objects dating to our period of interpretation, the early 1960s. In the process, we’ve learned much about the Jacksons and their predecessors’ tastes.
We know that Richie Jean and her husband, Dr. Sullivan Jackson, moved into the house shortly after their 1958 wedding. They shared the house with Mrs. Benny Portlock, a widow, who had lived in the house since 1940. Over a period of four to five years, Richie Jean Jackson redecorated the house to her own taste, called “transitional.” This was a popular style in the 1960s, incorporating historical with more modern elements. Once we learned Richie Jean Jackson’s aesthetic, combined with a knowledge of “transitional” style, we were able to gather what we need to tell our story.
KG: Can you talk about some of the interesting problems — and importantly, the solutions — that have emerged so far in your work on the Jackson Home? Are there particular rooms or interior spaces that you’ve spent more time on than others?
CS: The most important room in the house is the living room, which is where the Jacksons, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and many associates gathered on March 15, 1965, to watch President Johnson deliver his televised speech to Congress on the Voting Rights Act of 1965. This gathering was photographed for an article in Life Magazine. It gives us unprecedented documentation of the room – so we know exactly what was there — which is a blessing and a challenge. We have most of the items, but finding missing objects is difficult since our knowledge of them is so specific.
Dr. Sullivan Jackson (left) and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (center) watch President Johnson’s televised speech on March 15, 1965 in this Life magazine photograph. / THF724118
A good example is the living room oval mirror. Fortunately, the mirror came to us with the contents of the house—unfortunately, the pair of matching sconces did not. The back of the mirror revealed a maker’s label, “Syroco,” for the Syracuse Ornamental Company, Syracuse, New York. With this information, we searched for the matching sconces for sale online. We additionally used the Google Lens app as a shortcut to find replacement sconces. This has proved a great strategy for finding a number of other items for the house.
Jawana Jackson, the Jacksons’ daughter, in front of the mirror and sconces about 1965. / THF708621
JHM: The detective work for the kitchen has proved to be somewhat of a challenge. There were lots of changes from 1919 to 1965, as each of the three families who lived there placed their personal stamp on the room. We peeled back the layers of paint, wallpaper, and floor coverings both literally and figuratively. Then put the physical clues together with what we know about the home’s residents over time to discern what the kitchen looked like in 1965.
Wall treatments went from paint to wallpaper and back again. “Ghosting” on the wall revealed placement of objects like the range hood and a cupboard. / Photo by The Henry Ford
KG: How are you working with the Jackson Home team to ensure those important “lived moments” that occurred in the house are preserved and shine through for guests?
JHM: We are ensuring that the appearance of the interiors not only align with the historical images of the home, but that furnishings and supporting objects allow our visitors to not only see and hear the story — but help them to feel it as well. Each room has a theme to convey, so the objects in the room — and their placement — must provide visual support for each story. Even the bathroom will play an important role. It will reflect the theme “Care & Keeping,” indicating the hospitality, support, and safe space that Richie Jean and Sullivan Jackson provided during this crucial time. Many people involved with the movement stayed at the house. So, this room will contain extra towels, toilet paper, and toiletries, along with a pillow and blanke t— one person even slept in the bathtub.
CS: The bedroom of the Jackson’s 4-year-old daughter Jawana conveys the theme “Safety & Youth.” The room will juxtapose the innocence of childhood with racial discrimination — and her parents’ desire to assure their child a better future. The walls were, and will be, decorated with images of nursery rhyme characters and children praying.
Jawana Jackson (with a babysitter) in her bedroom, about 1968. / Edited from THF708616
KG: What has been the most challenging interior “object” (broadly speaking) that you’ve had to seek out, replace — or re-create so far?
JHM: Finding the appropriate refrigerator is proving quite a challenge! A photo taken in the kitchen of the Jackson home about 1961, shows that the family owned a white Frigidaire Lacework Styling freezer-on-top refrigerator model — a 1959-only design. (The handle on the Jackson refrigerator was a model only made one year by Frigidaire.) This refrigerator — along with a matching white stove — appears to have been still in place in the Jackson house kitchen in 1965, our period of significance. If anyone knows where one of these illusive refrigerators might be, please let us know!
A turquoise version of the 1959 Lacework Styling Frigidaire model, shown in a trade catalog. / THF717091
CS: One of the most difficult objects to replace was a common piece in the 1960s — a brass, floor to ceiling tension pole that held a wire support to display vinyl record albums. This was in the music room. These tension poles were a fad of the period and were out of fashion by the 1970s. With the current public fascination with mid-century modern decoration, these tension poles are difficult to find. When they come up for sale, they quickly disappear, and they can be expensive. After several near misses, our diligent staff located a great example.
The album holder appears in this photo of the Jackson Home music room, taken about 1990. / Image 8591, courtesy of the Jackson family
KG: Any major surprises or favorite moments so far — or things that I haven’t thought to ask that you would like to talk about?
JHM: We had been told that the bathroom sink that came with home was a later replacement. Maker name and model number in hand, we found the sink in a period Kohler catalog. It IS the original Jackson sink!
CS: One of my favorite outcomes is the conservation of the chair that Martin Luther King was seated in during President Johnson’s speech. This venerated upholstered armchair came to us needing some tender loving care. Through careful conservation, the original upholstery was stabilized and preserved for posterity.
Chair in which Martin Luther King Jr. was seated during President Johnson’s televised speech. / THF804175
Jeanine Head Miller is Curator of Domestic Life and Charles Sable is Curator of Decorative Arts at The Henry Ford .
At The Henry Ford, we often think of the countless stories of innovation that our institution can tell through archival materials—from the automotive parts drawings to the Bill Stumpf and Robert Propst design collections. Beyond these examples, there are many stories of American life in the last few centuries. Materials collected over the years document different aspects of life, both public and private, and tell stories of how society has survived, as life changed rapidly. We turn to museums and archives to tell “the big stories” of the past. But what about the small ones, the ones that go unnoticed? These hidden gems are often what tell us the most about what life was like, because they highlight what was most precious to the average person.
Two hair albums in the Collections of The Henry Ford, Acc. 56.40.1 (top) and 38.509.1 (bottom) / Photo by Staff of The Henry Ford
Finding these hidden gems in an archive is not as uncommon as you would think, especially when you have a collection the size of The Henry Ford’s. When I first started as a processing archivist, I decided to look through some of our unprocessed boxes to get a better idea of what items were in our holdings. This is how I found a folder labeled “hair albums,” containing two albums (as seen above) from 1850 and 1858, belonging to Sarah Smith and Chloe Thayer, respectively. At the time, I didn’t know what treasures I was holding, but through meticulous research and curiosity, I have unearthed powerful stories connected to everyday life in the mid nineteenth century.
What is a hair album? Sometimes called autograph albums or friendship albums, hair albums contain locks of hair along with verses from friends and family. They come from the Victorian era, largely in the time span of 1850 into the early 1900s. This era is notably remembered for its mourning practices. Many will be familiar with hair wreaths and hairwork jewelry that was created as a way of memorializing the dead. Hair albums, however, were created with the purpose of showcasing friendships and the ties that bind people together, not just to memorialize a life. For example, hair albums were sometimes made as farewell presents for women who were getting married and moving away. At a time when photographs were not common in use or availability, giving a lock of one’s hair was a very real representation of giving a piece of oneself to be remembered by. As author Neely Tucker wrote in an essay on this topic, “People might go months or years between seeing one another; a lock of hair was a meaningful talisman.”
Opening page of Smith Album, Accession 38.509.1 / Photo by Staff of The Henry Ford
After I discovered what a hair album is, and why they were made, I started looking for examples held in other institutional collections to compare notes. I wanted to find out how they described these albums, which then informed me how to describe the Smith and Thayer albums at The Henry Ford. The Newberry Library has a lovely hair album from 1845 available in their digital collections, which is similar in look to the Thayer Album. Harvard and Pennsylvania State universities also have hair albums in their collections. I reached out to Penn State to see if their processing archivist who worked on their albums would be willing to answer questions I had about their process, but unfortunately that person had long since retired. My next idea was to contact an expert on hair albums and ask them what they look for in a successful archival finding aid, which is used by researchers to find materials they want to review.
This led me to Dr. Helen Sheumaker, a professor at the University of Miami in Miami, Ohio, and author of Love Entwined: The Curious History of Hairwork in America. Dr. Sheumaker's book was one of the first sources I found that discussed hairwork outside of the context of the history of mourning, and after I read through it, I felt that she would be a good resource for me on this project. She graciously agreed to a virtual meeting, where we could review the hair albums in the collections of The Henry Ford, and to help me come up with descriptive terms for them.
Pages from Thayer Album, Accession 56.40.1 / Photo by Staff of The Henry Ford
While each album is unique, they have similarities. For example, locks of hair are arranged in familial groups, with persons of the same last name presented together. Both books are handmade and likely made with repurposed materials like wallpaper or dress fabric. The Smith Album in particular shows signs of hand stitching along the edge of the cover. The handwriting throughout the books is consistent, giving the impression that the creator collected the materials and assembled the book later. But what is different?
Pages depicting different colored woven hearts in Smith Album, Accession 38.509.1 / Photo by Staff of The Henry Ford
The Smith Album is more ornate of the two, which can be seen from the intricacy and detail present on each page and the elongated octagon shape of the album. When comparing the hair looping and braiding between the two albums, the Smith Album shows precision to detail, while the Thayer Album contains more loose hairs. The woven hearts holding the hair in place in the Smith Album vary by page and appear to be collected from the donor. This is not the case with the Thayer Album, with blue and pink paper being used throughout.
Pages from Thayer Album showing simple hair loops, Accession 56.40.1 / Photo by Staff of The Henry Ford
These differences may be due to the ages of the two women creating the albums, as it is likely that the Smith Album was created as a going away present for Sarah Smith's wedding while Chloe Thayer was a young schoolgirl. Understanding these foundational differences provides the context necessary to accurately describe these materials. Talking with Dr. Sheumaker, I was able to grow my knowledge of hair albums, and also determine a strong vocabulary needed to make them rise to the surface for future researchers. While not every archival processing story involves this level of research, most do involve a level of curiosity and a passion for discovery. Understanding the details is crucial, especially in the moments when you find yourself describing the little stories—like friendship—to make materials like these viewable within our collections.
Regina Parsell is a Processing Archivist at The Henry Ford.
Costume design is more than just providing clothes for actors in a movie. Effective costume design can reveal a character's background, personality, occupation, and even their state of mind. Each costume choice made by a designer—type and style of garment, accessories, details, materials, color—is deliberate, contributing to character development and the overall mood of the narrative.
The costumes below are from films directed by award-winning director Francis Ford Coppola. Coppola’s movies The Godfather (1972), The Godfather Part II (1974), and Apocalypse Now (1979) are often cited among the greatest films of all time.
Costumes provided by American Zoetrope
Through mid-December 2025, the What We Wore exhibit in Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation presents costumes from the film Bram Stoker’s Dracula. / THF805834
Bram Stoker’s Dracula
As Coppola began production on his spectacular reimagining of the 1897 Bram Stoker vampire novel, he declared that “the costumes will be the set.” His goal: visually exciting costumes that would establish the film’s surreal atmosphere. With the bulk of his budget slated for costumes, he turned to Japanese graphic designer Eiko Ishioka.
Eiko Ishioka, posing with the mask that pairs with Dracula’s armored suit.
Eiko Ishioka, Costume Designer
Eiko Ishioka was not known for costume design when Coppola hired her, a choice that might have seemed a risk. Yet Ishioka’s inventive, avant-guarde style was just what the film needed. And Coppola gave her free rein.
Ishioka—known for crossing or blurring boundaries—incorporated audacious forms, infused symbolic detail, and intertwined elements of Eastern and Western cultures along with steampunk aesthetics into the designs. Ishioka’s extravagant re-envisioning earned her an Academy Award for Best Costume Design.
Tom Waits as Renfield in Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 film, Bram Stoker’s Dracula. / Image by Columbia Pictures.
Renfield
R.M. Renfield—Dracula’s deranged, fanatically devoted servant—has gone insane and is confined to a mental hospital. Renfield suffers from delusions that compel him to eat insects and other living creatures in the hope of obtaining immortality.
The striped design of Renfield’s quilted straitjacket suggests his “prisoner” status. Constructed of rough gray fabric, the costume makes Renfield himself look like an insect!
Gary Oldman as Dracula in Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 film, Bram Stoker’s Dracula. / Image by Columbia Pictures.
Dracula
Ishioka wanted to suggest Dracula’s continued transformation, so she created seven distinctive—and often over-the-top—costumes for him. (In most Dracula-themed films, the fabled vampire had sported a single iconic look defined by a black swirling cape.)
Sometimes less is more. The slender, black pencil coat (shown above), the most visually understated of Ishioka’s Dracula costumes, conveys an ominous sense of undefined danger. While mildly deviant and somehow sinister, the garment provides no overt clues to Dracula’s disturbing need for drinking blood.
Winona Ryder as Elisabeta (later Mina Harker) in Francis Ford Coppola’s film, Bram Stoker’s Dracula. / Image by Columbia Pictures.
Elisabeta
After being falsely informed that her husband Dracula was killed while off fighting in the Crusades, Elisabeta wears this stunning dress—emblazoned with Dracula’s crest of the Order of the Dragon—as she commits suicide by hurling herself from the castle parapet, setting in motion the Dracula-initiated tragedies to come.
Dracula transforms into a vampire as he waits for the return of his longed-for dead bride—who centuries later he believes is reincarnated in the form of intelligent, yet naïve, Mina Harker.
Earlier this year, the What We Wore exhibit in Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation presented costumes from the film Megalopolis. / Image by Staff of The Henry Ford.
Megalopolis
Coppola envisioned Megalopolis as a fable, set in a modern world with references to ancient Rome. The deteriorating city of New Rome (New York City) is dominated by a group of elite families, who enjoy lavish lifestyles while ordinary New Romans live in poverty. New Rome must change—causing conflict. Cesar Catilina, a brilliant architect, offers a new vision for the city’s future, the utopian Megalopolis. Mayor Franklyn Cicero remains committed to a status quo of greed and special interests.
Milena Canonero. Image courtesy of Cineberg/Shutterstock.com
Milena Canonero, Costume Designer
Milena Canonero’s costumes for the futuristic Megalopolis reflect Coppola’s vision, merging contemporary design with elements from ancient Rome. A four-time Academy Award winner, the versatile Canonero has developed costumes for the dystopian classic A Clockwork Orange (1971), the psychological horror film The Shining (1980), and the period drama The Cotton Club (1984).
Jon Voight as Hamilton Crassus III in Francis Ford Coppola’s film, Megalopolis (2024). / Image courtesy of Milena Canonero.
Hamilton Crassus III
Hamilton Crassus III, head of Crassus National Bank, is the world’s richest man. He can buy anything. With his health and mind in decline, he is easily manipulated by others who have their eyes on his money—and their own interests at heart.
Crassus has “bought” beautiful Wow Platinum—or so he thinks. Crassus’s attire for his wedding to the ambitious Wow shows his great wealth and vanity: a gold-embroidered tuxedo, a cape with lapels that suggest a rich vein of gold, and a gilded “laurel” wreath on his head.
Aubrey Plaza as Wow Platinum in Francis Ford Coppola’s film, Megalopolis (2024). / Image courtesy of Milena Canonero.
Wow Platinum
Wow Platinum, a TV personality specializing in financial news, lives for money and power. Wow marries the extremely wealthy—and much older—Hamilton Crassus III. Her plan? To secure control of Crassus and his enormous wealth.
The unscrupulous Wow is a vision in gold in her elegant wedding dress and crown at the over-the-top wedding reception, a decadent celebration complete with circus acts and gladiator wrestling.
Giancarlo Esposito as Mayor Franklyn Cicero in Francis Ford Coppola’s film, Megalopolis (2024). / Image courtesy of Milena Canonero.
Franklyn Cicero
Franklyn Cicero, the ultra-conservative mayor of New Rome, has an ineffectual plan for revitalizing the deteriorating city. He’s set his sights on building a casino for the city that will provide immediate tax revenue.
Cicero’s ceremonial formal attire reflects his exalted position as mayor. Yet he must fight to retain power as he spars with idealistic architect Cesar Catilina and his more positive vision—rebuilding New Rome as a utopia.
Jeanine Head Miller is Curator of Domestic Life at The Henry Ford.
Alice in Wonderland pop-up book by Vojtěch Kubašta, c. 1960.
Vojtěch Kubašta is a name unfamiliar to most Americans. It's not surprising, as Kubašta lived and worked in Prague, behind the Iron Curtain in what is now the Czech Republic, for most of his life. But his name is revered among lovers of pop-up and movable books. He was an innovative storyteller, blending his deceptively simple artistry with imaginative movable and pop-up designs. His quiet ingenuity influenced and impacted others who created three-dimensional books, ushering in a resurgence of pop-ups.
Vojtěch Kubašta (1914-1992) was born in Vienna, Austria, but his family soon moved to Prague in what is now the Czech Republic. At an early age, Kubašta knew he wanted to be an artist. As a boy and young man, he filled pages and pages with drawings, sketches, and illustrations. In the early 1930s, he enrolled in the Czech Polytechnic University in Prague, studying to be an architect—a discipline that allowed him to do something with his hands and later helped him design movable and pop-up books. His university friends remembered Kubašta as an artist who studied architecture.
Kubašta honed his artistry and design skills over the next few decades. In the late 1930s and early 1940s, Kubašta designed stage sets for puppet theater -- a growing artistic movement in Czechoslovakia during the interwar years. (This experience, too, influenced his later mastery of movable and pop-up designs.) He taught graphic design. Kubašta also worked for a local plastics company, designing household items and creating marketing and advertising promotions. And as war engulfed Europe and the Czech people were overrun by Germany, Kubašta avoided run-ins with the Nazi occupiers, illustrating literary classics, fairy tales, children's books, and local interest subjects that appealed to national pride.
Kubašta continued his artistic journey after the end of World War II and the communist takeover of then-Czechoslovakia. Prague's printing industry had survived relatively intact, but communist control and censorship severely limited publishing output. Many Czech publishing houses closed. Yet, Kubašta persevered, creating advertisements and promotional materials and illustrating books, maps, posters, and other ephemera for several state-run agencies. He also devised ads with movable elements while working for the Czechoslovakian Chamber of Commerce.
In 1953, Kubašta began working for Artia, the state-run publishing and trading house. He offered his first pop-up book to Artia a few years later. Although he considered this first attempt crude, he would soon master the technique. Kubašta would add movable elements and create visuals to his pop-up books that extended beyond the pages, soaring over the book's flatness. Many of these pop-up books employed a stage-like setting -- pages with text parallel to the spine and that opened to a 90-degree angle to reveal three-dimensional scenery. These books' designs drew on his training as an architect and his work in puppet theater.
However, it wasn't only the three-dimensional elements that made Kubašta's books special. His richly colored illustrations are deceptively simple, filled with wit, humor, and little surprises. Kubašta masterfully blended two- and three-dimensional artistry, creating a visual unity to capture the imaginations of children and adults alike.
In the late 1950s and early 1960s, Artia contracted with several publishing houses in Western Europe, like Bancroft & Company of Westminster, London, to distribute Kubašta's works. Some of these children's storybooks made it to the United States. Alice in Wonderland, produced around 1960, displays the talent of Kubašta: soaring pop-ups, an innovative front cover (a die-cut opening covered with cellophane representing the rabbit hole), and bright, detailed illustrations with delightful surprises.
The oval die-cut opening on the cover is lined with cellophane, resembling the rabbit hole down which Alice fell. When closed, the images in the first pop-up are skillfully layered, allowing the reader to view some of the characters without opening the book. Kubašta was known for adding unusual materials, such as cellophane and foil, to his books. / THF803657
Open the book and discover this colorful pop-up filled with delightful illustrations depicting characters and images from Alice in Wonderland looming over the page. / THF803671
The front pop-up seen from above shows how Kubašta designed the cellophane-covered die-cut to reveal images. Note the large oval on the front cover (left), the oval cutouts in the pop-up house, and the smaller oval on the right (next to the rabbit) showing some of the book's text. / THF803658
In an illustration at the end of the book, a hidden door in the tree opens to reveal an extra little surprise. / Details of THF803667 and THF803669
A host of card characters leap from the page at the end of the book. / THF803679
Kubašta's innovative books and other works that made it to the West caught the attention of entrepreneurs and future movable book artists in America. Waldo Hunt, a self-described "creative businessman," remembers seeing Kubašta's pop-up books in New York in the early 1960s. They inspired him. Hunt's work in advertising and publishing in the early 1960s soon incorporated movable and three-dimensional elements. He created the Wrigley Zoo animal pop-ups for the children's magazine Jack and Jill and, in 1965, published Bennett Cerf's Pop-Up Riddles, a promotional item for Maxwell House coffee. That was just the beginning. Hunt's passion spurred a pop-up book revival in America, jump-starting a new era in three-dimensional publications. He collaborated with Hallmark and Random House, then created Intervisual Communications, a firm that would dominate pop-up publications for decades.
Kubašta's work also influenced artists and paper engineers. When Robert Sabuda was ten, he received a copy of Kubašta's Cinderella. The gift forever changed his view of pop-up books; Sabuda would go on to become an award-winning artist and paper engineer. Other artists, such as Ib Penick and David A. Carter, have also cited Kubašta's influence in their careers
Vojtěch Kubašta's impact was far-reaching. A prolific creator, he produced more than 300 pop-up books during his lifetime and influenced a renaissance in pop-up books. But more than this, his colorful illustrations and imaginative movable and three-dimensional artistry depicted wonder and humor in uncomplicated, simple terms. The universal appeal of his works provides a lasting legacy of innovation that breaks through the confines of borders.
Source and for more information, see:
A. Findlay and Ellen G.K. Rubin. Pop-ups, Illustrated Books, and Graphic Designs of Czech Artist and Paper Engineer, Vojtěch Kubašta (1914-1992). Fort Lauderdale, FL: Bienes Center for the Literary Arts, 2005.
Andy Stupperich is an Associate Curator at The Henry Ford.
At The Henry Ford, we have dedicated teams of craftspeople who create beautiful products in our Pottery, Glass, Weaving, and Print shops, which make up Liberty Craftworks in Greenfield Village. While these artisans use traditional techniques, they also do their fair share of innovation. One of the areas in which we have recently expanded is in our offering of products from Liberty Craftworks that use recyclable material sourced on-site.
Bookmarks made from recycled paper. / Image by The Henry Ford
Printmakers will check or proof their work by pulling test prints. Most times the results are positive although sometimes the outcome is unexpected. At this point, many prints could be considered misprints that can’t be used. In the Print Shop, they become the perfect opportunity for recycling and creating unique useful items.
Pin-back buttons created from test prints in the Print Shop. / Image by The Henry Ford
For example, the covers of our pocket-size journals were made with test prints from various posters created to be sold in the gift shops. Test print "Makers" posters were trimmed into distinctive bookmarks. A fitting Edison quote was handset and printed on the bookmark finished with a coordinating silver ribbon. Artisans also use test prints to make pin-back buttons. The print is punched with a circle punch and then pressed with a button-maker into coordinating size button hardware ready for a pin back to be added creating a one-of-a-kind button.
Pint glass created from recycled glass. In the background, you can see the variation that occurs, even when using one color of leftover glass. / Image by The Henry Ford
The Glass Shop uses recycled glass to create rocks and pint glasses. For each "run,'' or production batch, over 200 pounds of glass is diverted from the landfill. As with of our recycled handmade items, the colors of the glassware can vary depending on what colored glass is available and used.
Artisan creating pottery in the Pottery Shop. Mini bowls made from extra clay and remnant glaze are in the foreground. / Image by The Henry Ford
In the Pottery Shop, mini bowls are made from scraps of clay that are mixed together into a recycled clay blend. They are made from a variety of clay colors that are swirled together in the mixing process. Once the pieces are formed, they’re fired in a kiln to 1,950 °F and then dipped into a glaze. The glazes themselves are mixtures of leftover glazes from various projects. The glazed pieces are then fired again, this time to 2,100 °F. Each finished product is unique, and the fact that they are made from clay and glazes that have been recycled only adds to their beauty and distinctiveness.
Pouches made from Weaving Shop remnants, Clothing Studio scraps, and Pottery Shop buttons. / Image by The Henry Ford
When the Weaving Shop is lucky enough to have remnants, weavers use them to make colorful pouches. These unique creations also provide the opportunity for cross-collaboration among several teams. The pouch linings are made from remnants from the Clothing Studio, our internal textile department that creates all our historically accurate clothing and programmatic costumes. The buttons are scraps from the Pottery Shop. While the pouches are not always available, when they are, no two pouches are exactly alike.
These sustainable pieces help tell the story not only of historical craft, but of the importance of sustainability. The next time you are in one of our stores or shopping online, keep an eye out for these unique creations, and others from our innovative artisans.
- Mendy Grenz, Weaving Shop Lead
- Chris Hoffman, Glass Shop Lead
- Melinda Mercer, Pottery Shop Lead
- Kathy Torres, Print Shop Lead
Compiled by Zachary Ciborowski-Scarsella, Manager of Retail Marketing & Licensing, and Rachel Yerke-Osgood, Associate Curator
When telephones were first introduced in the late 1800s, people wanting a phone would subscribe to the local phone company’s services and receive a telephone on lease. Using the telephone at this time meant that both caller and receiver were tethered to their respective locations. But as American life became more bustling and more people found themselves away from home for greater portions of their day, telephone technology adapted.
Pay telephone featuring patents by William Gray, circa 1898 / THF805358
In 1889, the first public, coin-operated pay telephone was installed in Hartford, Connecticut, at the Hartford Connecticut Trust Company. The device had been conceived of and patented by William Gray; according to legend, he was inspired by his inability to find a publicly available phone when his wife was ill and needed a doctor. The pay telephone worked by creating slots for different denominations of coins, and different chimes or bells would sound as the money was deposited. Once the right amount had been deposited—the operator could tell by the chimes—the call would be put through. The Gray Telephone Pay Station Company, founded by Gray in 1891, would go on to install pay telephones across the country and refine their designs, creating different models for different needs and locations, from city streets to hotel lobbies. The company would be incredibly successful, even surviving the Great Depression before being bought out by Automatic Electric in 1948.
Motorola Brick Phone, 1985 / THF97588
On April 3, 1973, Motorola engineer Martin Cooper made the first publicized cell phone call—to Joel Engel, who was working at AT&T trying to develop the same technology, which would allow users to make calls without having a physical connection to a network, unlike previous phones. While the car phone—a device that was mounted in the trunk of a car, with cables running through the vehicle to connect to a headset in the cabin—already existed and allowed for some mobile communication, its adoption was intentionally limited by the Federal Communications Commission (FCC), which required licenses for its use. Motorola continued refining their cellphone technology, and in 1983 they had the first commercially available cellphone ready for the market. By 1990, over one million Americans were using cellphones.
Pay phones and mobile phones help people get in touch on the go. But what about when the recipient, not necessarily the caller, is out and about? For that, we turned to different technologies—including the answering machine and the pager.
AT&T Model 2100 Telephone Answering Machine, circa 1983 / THF323526
Although the first automatic answering machine was invented in 1935, the first commercially viable machine didn’t arrive until 1971, with PhoneMate’s Model 400. By the end of the 1980s, one in three American households owned an answering machine. While the concept may seem simple, the implications for telephone culture were immense. Now there was a way to be continuously available; even if you were away from your telephone, the machine would make sure that the caller’s message was there waiting for you when you returned. The adoption of answering machines also led to a change in the culture around phone calls. On the one hand, calls were easier to screen, but on the other, a missed call no longer meant the onus was on the caller to try again, but rather on the recipient to phone back.
Motorola Pager, 1995 / THF302299
In 1949, wireless communication pioneer Al Gross patented the very first telephone paging device. The following year, the device was put into service at New York's Jewish Hospital—marking the start of what would be a long history of use in critical communications. In 1959, Motorola coined the term “pager,” and the name stuck; in 1964, they would become the main force in the pager market with the first versions available to consumers. While the first pagers delivered tone-only messages, by the 1980s new versions had been developed that displayed alpha-numeric messages, allowing people to send short messages without having to pick up a phone. By 1994, over 61 million pagers were in use. Although the rise of cell phones with the ability to send text messages led to pagers falling out of favor with the general public, pagers remain a crucial part of many hospitals' and first responders' communication systems.
iPhone, 2007 / THF92290
Of course, thanks to the smartphone, our telephone technology now solves more problems than ever before, all in a conveniently portable package. Landline telephones have waned in popularity, and for many of us, our mobile phone is now our only phone. We can text paragraphs of thoughts with a few swipes on a screen. Our phones not only automatically come with a voicemail function, but many of them will even transcribe the messages for us. We’re more reachable than ever before, yet many of us talk on the phone even less. The remnants of the technology that led to this moment still exist, though—just waiting for us to make the connection.
A functioning pay phone can still be found—and used!—in the Welcome Center at Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation. / Photo by Rachel Yerke-Osgood
The Henry Ford's 1898 pay telephone was conserved, rehoused, and digitized thanks to a grant from the Institute of Museum and Library Servcies (IMLS).
Rachel Yerke-Osgood is an Associate Curator at The Henry Ford.
In the spring of 2023, the contents of an entire house—9,000 everyday objects, including photographs, documents, books, and household items—were logged, packed, and shipped from Selma, Alabama to Dearborn, Michigan. That house was the Jackson Family Home, which was recently moved to its new permanent home in Greenfield Village—you can find out more about the move here. The items arrived and staff started their work to introduce them into The Henry Ford's Collection.
Contents of the Jackson Family Home are packed in boxes and await loading for shipment from Selma, Alabama, to Dearborn, Michigan. / Photograph by Staff of The Henry Ford.
Following the arrival of these materials to Michigan, two-dimensional materials were separated and inventoried as part of The Henry Ford’s Archives and Library collection, located in the Benson Ford Research Center. These materials were then sent to an abatement contractor and gamma irradiated to best preserve them for posterity. This interventive treatment sterilizes and decontaminates potential hazards, without causing any harm to the object. With the materials returned on-site, a processing archivist completed an intensive inventory, intellectually arranging, drafting descriptions, and rehousing the materials to increase accessibility and prepare them for use by researchers and the public.
Staff at The Henry Ford organize archive and library materials in preparation for work with an abatement contractor. / Photograph by Staff of The Henry Ford.
Many of these materials are being used to fuel the interpretation and visualization of the Jackson Home for its opening in the summer of 2026.
Photograph of Jawana Jackson in the Jackson Family Home. / THF708595
Processing of the three-dimensional artifacts began with unpacking 100 items at a time and assigning a temporary inventory number to each object. This number allows us to track the items as they move through various stages of processing. After inventory, high-resolution reference photographs are captured. This data is uploaded to our digital cataloging system and the items are then transferred to the conservation lab. In April 2023 this phase was completed, but there are several ongoing processing phases that will continue through 2026.
Carts are used to assist in relocating artifacts between stages of processing for the Jackson Home Project. A. L. Hirsch Rover Pottery Dachshund Ceramic Dresser Caddy and United China and Glass Company Pink and White Berries and Bird Leaf bowl are shown being relocated on a cart. / Photograph by Staff of The Henry Ford.
Every artifact from the Jackson Family Home undergoes multiple rounds of cleaning and repair in conservation. The process began when the contents of the home were packed in Selma—where larger items were lightly vacuumed to remove dust. Once on-site at The Henry Ford, each item was thoroughly cleaned and vacuumed during unpacking, providing the first opportunity to check the condition of objects for missing parts or signs of deterioration. Once in the conservation lab, a condition report and treatment plan are created for each object.
Associate Conservator Kate Herron adds netting to the arms of this Floral Globe Furniture Company armchair, an object used in the Jackson Family Home, for extra stability. / Photograph by Staff of The Henry Ford.
Treatment options can range from light cleaning to restoration or more extensive repairs, depending on the artifact’s condition. Regular meetings with curators at The Henry Ford help determine the appropriate level of cleaning, which items need preservation to address wear or evidence of use, and how each object contributes to the overall narrative.
Curator of Decorative Arts Charles Sable consults with Conservator Louise Beck on conservation treatment of conservation treatment of a Cosco High chair with steps used in the Jackson Family Home kitchen. / Photograph by Staff of The Henry Ford.
Simple treatments, like wiping down with deionized water or ethanol, are often sufficient for stable items with light dirt. For kitchen equipment, layers of grease and dust are removed. Some artifacts require more complex treatments, including the repair of broken pieces or removal of corrosion from metals. To prevent deterioration, protective coatings like lacquer are used for brass and silver objects, and specific chemical treatments for iron and steel. Once treatment is complete, the object's condition and treatment details are documented in the catalog record, and the objects continue their journey to The Henry Ford’s registrar staff.
Yellow Cosco Highchair with steps used in the Jackson Family Home, after conservation treatment. / THF803856
The registrar is responsible for research and cataloging each artifact. They build individual catalog records for each object with data such as size, maker, date of creation, and the purpose of the object. Every item is assigned a unique identifier, or an "accession number," that connects that object with a specific record. Accession numbers provide detailed information about the year the object was received into The Henry Ford’s collection, the collection “lot” it is a part of, and the specific registration succession number it is assigned. This unique identification number is attached or physically written on the artifact to ensure it can be traced to its record. Artifacts are labeled in a method that may be removed, if desired or needed down the road, without damage to the object. In addition to the photographic documentation in the collection, this research aids our understanding of what time period(s) the object lived in the Jackson Family Home.
Artifacts in The Henry Ford collection are physically labeled with their accession number. A school bell from the Jackson Family Home is shown being labeled by Collections Specialist-Cataloger Andrew Schneider. / Photo by Staff of The Henry Ford.
The artifact then proceeds to photography for a high-resolution image. In 2026 the digitized objects and images from the Jackson Family Home will become accessible to the public on The Henry Ford’s digital collection, which can be accessed on The Henry Ford's Digital Collections website.
The Henry Ford Photographer Jillian Ferraiuolo, capturing a photograph of a Breakfront China Cabinet from The Jackson Family Home. Digitizing our collection allows artifacts to be accessible, even when not on exhibition. / Photo by Staff of The Henry Ford.
Breakfront China Cabinet. / THF803854
Once processing has concluded, the object is prepared for its new home in the collection, whether that is preparing for handoff to the exhibition team for installation in the Jackson Family Home, used in temporary exhibitions, or moved to storage for future research and opportunities.
This blog was produced by multiple authors: Kristen Hollingsworth, Jackson Home Project Coordinator; Louise Beck, Conservator, Julia DiLaura, Collections Specialist; Ashley Wimbrough, Collections Specialist; Andrew Schneider, Collections Specialist Cataloger; Jack Schmitt, Processing Archivist; and Aidan Thomas, Conservation Specialist at The Henry Ford.
by Kristen Hollingsworth, by Louise Stewart Beck, by Julia DiLaura, by Ashley Wimbrough, by Andrew Schneider, by Jack Schmitt, by Aidan Thomas
Its top down under bright skies, this Ford Model A kept pace with the Torch Lake locomotive at the 2025 Old Car Festival. / Image by Matt Anderson
Pleasant temperatures and sunny skies greeted visitors and participants alike at our 2025 Old Car Festival, held in Greenfield Village on September 6 and 7. More than 750 vintage cars, trucks, motorcycles, and bicycles registered for this year’s event, making for one of the largest festivals in recent years. Throughout the weekend, the village was filled with the sights and sounds of early gasoline, steam, and electric cars all dating no later than 1932.
We choose a special theme for each year’s show. Often it’s a specific make or model, and sometimes it’s a geographic location or style of automobile. This year we went big by celebrating an entire century with our focus on Nineteenth-Century Motoring. The automobile may have defined the twentieth century, but its origins and earliest impacts lie firmly in the 1800s, from Karl Benz’s pioneering Patent-Motorwagen of 1885 to the Duryea brothers’ first series-produced automobile in 1896.
The Henry Ford’s 1893 Benz Velocipede, one of eleven pre-1900 vehicles shown in Detroit Central Market, embodied the festival’s Nineteenth-Century Motoring theme. / Image by Matt Anderson
Incredibly, Old Car Festival featured eleven pre-1900 vehicles in Detroit Central Market. Four of them came from The Henry Ford’s own collection including an 1893 Benz Velocipede, our replica of Henry Ford’s 1896 Quadricycle, an 1898 Autocar Runabout, and, perhaps most interesting of all, a conjectural full-size model of George Selden’s Motor Buggy based on his notorious patent first applied for in 1879 and awarded in 1895. Participants added another five vehicles to the mix, including a replica of an Iowa-built 1890 Morrison Electric, an 1896 Riker Electric prototype, an 1897 De Dion-Bouton Tricycle, an 1898 Beeston Quadricycle, and an 1899 Marot-Gardon. Our neighbors at the Automotive Hall of Fame provided two additional vehicles: replicas of the Benz Patent-Motorwagen and Gottlieb Daimler and Wilhelm Maybach’s 1885 Reitwagen motorcycle.
Visitors were treated to a variety of experiences throughout the village. Not far from the entrance, at the Ford Home, the Early Engine Club staged a Farm Power Expo showcasing early tractors and stationary engines, including The Henry Ford’s Pullford farm tractor — created from a Ford Model T using a widely marketed conversion kit. Outside the nearby Bagley Avenue Workshop, presenters demonstrated a replica of Henry Ford’s 1893 Kitchen Sink Engine that represented his first steps in the nascent automotive industry.
Old Car Festival included a number of imports like this 1924 Jowett made in Great Britain. / Photo by Matt Anderson
As is the custom at Old Car Festival, participating vehicles were parked in chronological order throughout Greenfield Village. The earliest automobiles sat near the Armington & Sims Machine Shop near the village entrance, while late 1920s and early 1930s cars had space near the Daggett Farmhouse. The Village Green was reserved for judged cars. Vehicle class awards were given based on authenticity, quality of restoration work and the care with which each car was maintained. First-, second- and third-place prizes were awarded in eight classes, and one overall Grand Champion was selected for the festival. We also presented two Curator’s Choice Awards to two unrestored vehicles. The complete list of our 2025 Old Car Festival award winners is available here.
Bicycles had their own pass-in-review sessions, ably narrated by Bill Smith, on Saturday and Sunday mornings. / Photo by Matt Anderson
Old Car Festival visitors were welcome to explore the village and learn about the cars on their own. As always, participants were eager to share stories and insights about their vehicles. But visitors interested in a more formal presentation could attend pass-in-review sessions throughout the weekend. Vintage vehicles were driven past a set of bleachers on Main Street where expert historians offered commentary on each one. Sometimes the narration included dates and production figures for a vehicle’s manufacturer, and other times it was a broader statement on that car’s impact on technology or design. These narrated sessions also provided an opportunity for us to individually thank our participants by giving them a moment in the spotlight.
Martha-Mary Chapel hosted its own series of special presentations. Automotive historian Andy Dervan shared a look at Ford Motor Company’s monthly publication, Ford Times, which launched in April 1908. Always promotional but often informative, Ford Times included travelogues, customer testimonials and general news on the company and its products. Roadside historian Daniel Hershberger shared insights on automobile touring and camping in the first decades of the 20th century. Not far from the chapel, next to Scotch Settlement School, Hershberger staged an impressive display of vintage camping equipment. Meanwhile, presenter Ray Swetman offered an informative talk in the chapel about Henry Ford’s efforts to finance Ford Motor Company, his third attempt at auto production, in 1903.
The Georgia farmhouse of Amos and Grace Mattox represented the trying Depression years, accented by a well-worn Ford Model TT parked out front. / Image by Matt Anderson
Music featured prominently in this year’s show. Old Car Festival’s 40-year timespan allowed for a variety of musical styles. The corner of Washington Boulevard and Post Road hosted a ragtime street fair, complete with a cakewalk set to syncopated piano rags by Scott Joplin and other giants of the genre. The River Raisin Ragtime Review orchestra joined the festivities on Saturday evening with a concert on Main Street. Throughout the weekend at the Mattox Family Home, Rosa Warner-Jones performed a selection of poignant gospel and blues songs evocative of the Georgia lowlands during the Great Depression. The Village Trio vocal group, the Greenfield Village Quartet and other artists added to the experience.
Hagerty’s 1930 Studebaker Victoria coupe drew onlookers at the Lodge. / Image by Matt Anderson
Once again, our friends at Hagerty helped make Old Car Festival the success it was. Not only did they sponsor their terrific youth judging program, in which children 8-10 years old get to view and choose their favorite cars; Hagerty also brought a 1930 Studebaker Commander 8 that fit in perfectly at the show. Hagerty had an active presence near the Herschell-Spillman Carousel with magazines, newsletters and fun promo products available to all comers.
We extend a special thanks to all the participants, presenters, performers and guests who made the 2025 Old Car Festival so special. This one may be in the history books, but you can be sure that we’re already looking forward to next year.
Matt Anderson is Curator of Transportation at The Henry Ford.
Dr. Sullivan Jackson on the front steps of The Jackson Home, circa 1999. The house reflects changes made in the late 1960s and 1970s. / Alabama Department of Archives and History. Donated by Alabama Media Group / Photo by Ed Jones, Birmingham News.
In 2026, The Jackson Home from Selma, Alabama, will open in Greenfield Village, becoming the first home to be added to this collection of historic structures in over 40 years. The home comes to us with the inspiring story of a courageous family and community at the forefront of one of the most crucial moments in the Civil Rights Movement in America. Their tireless efforts, spotlighted on national and world stages, would eventually lead to the signing of the Voting Rights Act on August 6, 1965.
During the first months of 1965, the home of Dr. Sullivan and Mrs. Richie Jean Jackson and their young daughter, Jawana, served as a key backdrop to the world-changing events in Selma. Their modest yet well-appointed home provided a safe haven for Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and other civil rights activists planning the Selma-to-Montgomery marches, and acted as a communication hub, including ongoing calls to and from the White House.
It’s fitting that this home joins buildings associated with other extraordinary Americans, such as Abraham Lincoln, George Washington Carver, Thomas Edison, the Wright Brothers, and Henry Ford, who also achieved remarkable things. It’s also fitting that The Jackson Home is not a grand mansion. Instead, the home is an Arts & Crafts single-story southern bungalow, a style that became prevalent in neighborhoods across the country in the early 20th century. While Greenfield Village has a few 20th-century buildings, none are of this Arts & Crafts style.
The home will be restored to its 1965 appearance, both inside and out, reflecting the changes made by three generations of African American dentists who lived there between 1919 and 1965.
The home of Dr. R.B. Hudson, next door to The Jackson Home. Designed by Wallace A. Rayfield in 1910
The Jackson Home was commissioned by Dr. Richard Hudson as a wedding gift for his daughter, Leola Hudson, in 1919. Dr. Hudson was a prominent Alabama businessman and an important figure in Alabama’s black educational community. He was closely associated with Dr. Booker T. Washington and the Tuskegee Institute (now University), and was a benefactor of Selma University, which stood just down the street from his home. Hudson’s own home was designed by Wallace A. Rayfield in 1910, so it is not surprising that the new home for his daughter and her new husband, Dr. William Whitted, would also be a Rayfield design.
Wallace A. Augustus Rayfield and students in a mechanical drawing class at the Tuskegee Institute, Tuskegee, Alabama, circa 1902. / Photograph by Frances Benjamin Johnston, courtesy of Library of Congress
Wallace A. Rayfield provided designs for the remodeling of the home of Dr. L.L. Burwell in 1910. The Burwells are related to The Jacksons and this home stood just around the corner from The Jackson Home. / THF725295
The connection to Wallace A. Rayfield emerged early in our Jackson Home research. At the time the house was built, Rayfield was one of only two formally trained African American architects in America. After earning degrees from Howard University, Columbia, and the Pratt Polytechnic Institute, he began his career teaching architectural design and technical drawing at Tuskegee Institute. In 1908, Rayfield opened his own firm in Birmingham, Alabama, where he built a thriving business designing homes, schools, churches, and other public buildings for the growing black middle class. In 1909, Rayfield designed the famous 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, the site of the horrific bombing that killed four young girls in 1963.
16th Street Baptist Church, Birmingham, Alabama, designed by Wallace A. Rayfield in 1909. / THF725347
Floor plan of The Jackson Home highlighting each of the additions. / From the Historic Structures Report prepared by Quinn Evans.
Dr. William and Leola Whitted lived in the home from their marriage in 1919 until Dr. Whitted’s death in 1940. In its first iteration, the house was sided in narrow painted clapboard with a wooden shingled roof. It ended at the kitchen door, with another doorway leading out from the hallway onto a covered porch. The house was heated by individual fireplaces with coal grates, with a coal stove likely in the kitchen, and featured indoor plumbing and electricity. Remarkably, all the original 1919 windows survived and will be reinstalled in the house.
In the late 1930s, as Dr. Whitted's health declined, Dr. Eric Portlock, a cousin of Leola's, joined the dental practice. After Dr. Whitted's death in 1940, Dr. Portlock took over the practice, and he and his wife, Bennie, moved into the house as tenants, while Leola relocated to Montgomery.
Under Bennie Portlock's care, the home became a center of hospitality for many of the women's groups, church organizations, and Selma University functions in which she was involved. Her love for gardening, flowers, and color became evident as she put her own stamp on the decor of the house.
Birthday party for Rose Marie Foster (seated) hosted by Mrs. Bennie Portlock (directly behind Rose). This circa 1953 image shows the original features of the dining room and some of Mrs. Portlock's floral wallpaper. Marie Foster, one of Selma's “Courageous Eight,” stands next to her daughter, Rose. Marie was the sister of Sullivan Jackson and worked as a dental hygenist for both Dr. Portlock and Dr. Jackson. / THF708432
In the early 1950s, the Portlocks made significant upgrades to the house, including a large rear addition with a full bathroom, den, and bedroom. Along with these changes, they extensively decorated with colorful wallpapers. The kitchen was partially remodeled and updated, but the original 1919 kitchen cabinets remained in place.
The kitchen of The Jackson Home in 1959. / THF708492
The kitchen of The Jackson Home in 1959. / THF708428
Around this same time, the Portlocks also resided the house in a wide cement board (a maintenance-free upgrade to the painted wooden siding) finished in a fashionable salmon color with white trim, and added a metal shingle roof over the original wooden shakes. These exterior changes remained in place through 1965 and will be restored.
Dr. Portlock died in 1955. Bennie remained in the house alone until 1958, when Dr. Jackson and Richie Jean Sherrod moved in after their marriage. Dr. Jackson had joined the practice in the mid-1950s. Richie Jean was a cousin to Leola Whitted, the owner of the house, and would eventually inherit the home.
From 1958 onward, Richie Jean gradually added her own modern touches to the home's decor. The birth of Jawana Jackson in July 1960 brought further changes. It's important to note that very soon after The Jacksons moved into the home, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his colleagues became frequent house guests while visiting Selma College for seminars and lectures. By this time, Dr. King and the Jacksons had become close friends, and The Jackson Home was a safe haven.
In November 1964, Dr. King contacted The Jacksons about coming to Selma to expose the voting inequities happening there and asked if their home could be a planning base. The Jacksons quickly agreed, and Richie Jean redecorated, painting over the aging wallpaper and installing new carpeting throughout the house. Family photos of this period show these changes taking place, while the house’s exterior remained unchanged through 1965.
Artist’s rendering of The Jackson Home returned to its 1965 appearance. / Photo from The Henry Ford’s Experience Schematic Design Report
By 1967, the front porch’s wooden columns and crisscrossed railing were replaced with wrought iron. In the mid-1970s, the porch was further transformed into a brick half-walled space with a ceramic tile floor. The same brick was used to infill between the original piers and remodel the living room fireplace. Major renovations also included new drywall throughout the home, a remodeled kitchen, and the addition of a “lower den” family room. These changes, made after 1965, have since been removed to restore the home’s original 1965 appearance, with missing elements to be reproduced and reinstated to their original locations.
The front of The Jackson Home, circa 1963. This image shows the 1950s configuration of the front porch that remained intact through 1965. / THF708601
The front porch of The Jackson Home, Easter 1967, showing the recent addition of the wrought-iron railing and columns that replaced the wooden columns and railing. / THF718533
The Jackson Home has been part of many journeys. Among them are the lives of three generations, world-changing historical events and their aftermaths, a thousand-mile move from Selma, Alabama, to Dearborn, Michigan, and now, a journey back in time to 1965. Many of us have had the honor of being part of these last legs of the home’s journey, an honor we will not soon forget.
One half of The Jackson Home in its shipping container arriving at Greenfield Village and its two halves reunited on its new foundation. / Photos by Staff of The Henry Ford
One half of The Jackson Home in its shipping container arriving at Greenfield Village and its two halves reunited on its new foundation. / Photos by Staff of The Henry Ford.
- Brown, Charles A. W.A. Rayfield: Pioneer Black Architect of Birmingham, Alabama, Gray Printing Co., Birmingham, AL, 1977.
- Durough, Allen R., The Architectural Legacy of Wallace A. Rayfield, The University of Alabama Press, Tuscaloosa, 2010.
- Jackson, Richie Jean Sharrod, The House by the Side of the Road, The University of Alabama Press, Tuscaloosa, 2011.
- Historic Structures Report, The Sullivan and Richie Jean Jackson House, prepared by Quinn Evans, Ann Arbor, MI 2023.
- Van West, Carroll, and Richie Jean Jackson House National Register Nomination, Washington, DC: United States Department of Interior, National Park Service, 2013.
James R. Johnson is Director, Greenfield Village & Curator of Historic Structures & Landscapes at The Henry Ford.
